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unfortunate events of early December

I’m high on zinc and short on sleep + dignity. For a moment, laid up on the couch trying to get the snot to flow back into my nose while pouring hot ginger tea down my throat, Love Actually seemed like a good idea. Having seen the film in London in 2003 (me: “It’s like we’re at the premier!” my friend Avery: “no it’s not”) I’ve watched it a few times since (which I’ll blame on my sister) and what I can only explain as a strange combination of my double X chromosomes and sheer masochism keep me coming back for more. Stray thoughts:

! Never does my inherent American femaleness make itself more apparent than when faced with Hugh Grant (whatever crags he may be assuming as of late), for whom my inexplicable love runs as deep and dark as my natural hair color.

& If for nothing else, this movie is notable for its 2003-era barely veiled jabs at “American imperialism,” (despite Prime Minister Hugh’s weird “sympathetic” (?) 9/11 reference in the opening monologue). The American president is sleazy, not good at playing with others, and Texan! Which may be preferable to the producers’ apparent assumption that all Americans are hot sluts? Thanks? Shannon Elizabeth (HAHAH my fingers just typed those words) and Denise Richards (annnnnd again)?

& Quite a bit has been made on certain corners of the internet about the all-but-blatant female subservient nature of two of the vignettes: Hugh falls in love with his secretary (who’s “fat,” OH GOD YES GIVE ME MORE) and Colin Firth with his Portuguese house keeper. AND despite everything else I’ve ever said, I’m ok with both of these things, because I love both Hugh and Colin and both their chosen ladies are JUST so dark-haired and adorable that I find myself wishing I was a Portuguese housekeeper so I could fall in love with a handsome English turtle-neck-sweater-wearer (oh sorry, in British, ROLL-NECK JHAHAH) who like “writes” or something at a French (?) villa because his wife was fucking his brother. However, the real problem I have with this whole scenario, which is the real problem that I’ve had with being alive every moment since that moment in Boulder Colorado a lot of Augusts ago is this: Portuguese homegirl is sweet and adorable and natural-nosed, and she seems like she’d have, oh I don’t know, A PERSONALITY. And. Wait for it. Colin loses his manuscript to the French wind or whatever, because obviously writers in the 21st century practice their craft OUTSIDE ON A TYPEWRITER. So all the leaves of his work of genius (which we later learn is a crime novel, LOLLLL) blow away, and this beezie strips off her clothing to dive into the pond after the would-be movie starring Will Smith. And at the moment she’s in her virginal white bra and undies and her “surprisingly ” tight little brown body is on display (with full on-lower back tatt WHOLE NOTHER ENTRY) that little soft-sparse “falling-in-love-score” starts playing straight into the psyche of YOU THE VIEWER who is subliminally soaking up “oh they had this little cute thing before but now that he sees she has a beautiful body he’s in love with her and we’re in love with him being in love with her. I’M NEVER EATING AGAIN.” Hey kids, but obviously specifically women, NO ONE WILL LOVE YOU IF YOU DON’T LOOK GOOD NAKED. LOVE, HOLLYWOOD. (they won).

& THEN ITS EVEN WORSE because I’m like, UUGHGHHGHGHG I’m going to be one of those horrible people (in another universe, in which people actually want to date people and don’t have “baggage” or other bullshit I don’t care about because DUH) who passive-aggressively forces (like so p-a-ively that I make him suggest it or I’m dumping him on Christmas eve) her poor s.o. to watch Love Actually but then tries DESPERATELY not to like OOGLE the shit out of Karl (IRL some Brazilian cologne model) whilst he’s in his undies (black! undies!!) ??? HAHAHA EWWWW maybe we should stick to the Muppets or like nothing?